


We Got All Night All Day

by ShipperTrash140109



Category: Actor RPF, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Halloween Costumes, M/M, because hes lazy, ben is an olympic diver, drunk! ben, gwil is sherlock because ofc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 06:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17637998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperTrash140109/pseuds/ShipperTrash140109
Summary: Ben couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d drank his weight in alcohol then hooked up with someone,but one thing’s for sure, this was likely going to remain fresh in his mind for quite a while.akaben gets hammered and gwil makes a really attractive sherlock holmes





	We Got All Night All Day

**Author's Note:**

> disc: If you are or know anyone mentioned in this fic I urge you to turn away now!
> 
> this is dedicated to a lovely anon on my tumblr from a while back, thank you so much for requesting such a fun plot, i hope it lives up to ur expectations ❤❤

Ben couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d drank his weight in alcohol then hooked up with someone,  
but one thing’s for sure, this was likely going to remain fresh in his mind for quite a while.

So, here’s a long fuckn story short: his mate Allen had thrown a Halloween party (even though they didn’t celebrate it, everyone was just glad to have an excuse to drink and dress like a pack of slags) and Ben had decided it would be a brilliant idea to dress up as an ‘olympic diver’ (basically he didn’t want to buy a costume so he decided to chuck on a pair of speedos and hope everyone was too distracted by his… assets, to ask any questions- spoiler alert, it worked) and midway through the night, after god knows how much booze was in his system, he laid eyes on the hottest looking Sherlock ever known to man, and then, like any logical person, he proceeded to take them into the spare room and “solve the mystery of how many times I can come before I pass out” (except this morning he couldn’t for the life of him recall what happened after he dropped that line).

For those of you who want the full story; here it is.

 _I’m going to die before the night is out_ he thought as he watched Allen stumble his way over, hands full with two drinks of god knows what (for most of the night he’d taken whatever he’d been given), the blond took the glass, and quickly threw back the strong mix, some spilling down his chest and making him glad he wasn’t wearing a shirt (he hated ruining his favourite shirts like that). He could feel people’s eyes on him, but he’d decided not to give a shit five drinks ago.

Head spinning, he made his way through crowds of nurses, pirates, vampires and even a couple people dressed as ‘straight guys’ on his way to find the door to the backyard (when Allen said there would be a smoke machine, he really wasn’t joking, it looked like someone had released a fifteen year-old vaper in here and Ben thought he was gonna pass out unless he got fresh air). As he walked, he felt random hammered people reach out and touch him, there were hands against his shoulders, arms, abs and arse, but so long as that speedo stayed on, he wasn’t going to complain.

Upon reaching the backyard, he’d managed to score a delightful looking rum and coke off of ‘Captain America’ in exchange for a kiss and a boob grab (his boob, that is), and he was mid-way through throwing it back when he saw honest-to-god the hottest man he’d ever seen relaxing by Allen’s pool, and he nearly wound up inhaling an ice cube. He was talking with someone in a cardboard iron man mask and a couple pieces of tin foil that likely didn’t qualify as armour and clutching a bottle of something fruity looking. Ben of course, knew exactly what had to be done.

Observing the man’s costume as he got closer, he realised it was the detective from that mystery show, Ben swore he knew the name, but couldn’t remember as he approached gorgeous investigator man. Stopping in front tall dark and handsome, Ben clicked his free hand at him, pointing at the costume and trying to recall the name.

“Bandicoot Thundersnatch? Bendycat Cookiebatch?”

Tall drink of water looked confused, but Ben nearly popped a stiffy just from the amused smile on his face.

“Breadmachine Crackerjack! Benevolent Computerglitch? C’mon… Benadryl Cabbagepatch!”

Taking a sip of his drink before dragging a hand over his beard, Not Benadryl Cabbagepatch smiled at him, cocking an eyebrow before suggesting “Benedict Cumberbatch? As in Sherlock Holmes?”

Ben nodded vigorously, and pointed to himself, trying not to slur his words too badly as he said “Olympic swimmer, they do the laps in the big pool y’know? Wanna feel my abs? Swear they’re no’ fake,” he then gestured to said muscles and jutted his hips forward, encouraging Not Sherlock Holmes to cop a feel.

He wasn’t sure if Not Ironman was still there, but even if they were, he didn’t give a shit, he needed Not Sherlock Holmes in him before the night was over. Speaking of Sherlock Holmes, he’d caved and pressed a hand to Ben’s firm stomach, looking rather impressed before pulling away and taking a pull of his drink.

“So, Shemlock Herms, can you help me solve a mystery? I wanna find out how I can convince you to fuck me in my mates spare room,” Ben wouldn’t usually be so brazen, even when drunk, but he knew that with this calibre of man, he had to pull out all the stops, he was just hoping this wouldn’t end with him finding out how much of an Olympic diver he actually was.

Sherlock considered him a moment, before he cracked a grin and laughed to himself, throwing back the rest of his drink before nodding “alrigh’ Phelps, let’s solve this mystery” he mumbled, before pulling Ben against him. His lips taste of something almost sickeningly fruity, along with the faint taste of long-gone gum. It was almost infuriating- Sherlock being under so many layers and Ben having little more than a slip of spandex to cover himself.

They never stopped kissing, tongues and lips clashing in a messy movement as they made their way through the house, Sherlock’s hands firm against Ben’s arse and his coat mercifully covering the noticeable bulge in the swimming briefs. Ben saw Allen out the corner of his eye as they moved towards the hall, he pulled back a minute and hot guys mouth instantly attached to his neck, “Al, I’m gonna get fucked in ya spare room so y’ migh’ wanna steer clear!” he called out, catching the hesitantly supportive smile before he turned his focus back to kissing the life out of Sherlock Holmes.

As Sherlock fiddled with the doorknob, Ben licked a stripe up his neck, giggling airily before biting his lip “so, detective, we gonna solve the mystery of how many times I can come before passing out?” then cue the complete loss of all memory for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

Ben woke up with his head on the brink of explosion and his arse aching like a bitch, a bit dazed and confused, he cracked his eyes open and found himself in an unfamiliar room. It took him a hot moment to actually figure out he was in Allen’s house still, and he silently thanked drunk Ben for having enough decency to at least get that right.

He rolled over and barely managed not to scream, Sherlock must have been fucking hung because he’d never been this sensitive before. Unfortunately, when he tried to recall what had happened, he found his mind frustratingly, disappointingly blank. Dragging his arm over his face, he dreaded asking Allen who he’d banged, when he caught a scribble of black out the corner of his eye, there, in messy black pen, was the words “Benadryl Cabbagepatch (Gwil) has deduced you came four times” above a line of numbers.

He already knew it would likely become the most used number in his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to drop a comment or request below, or hmu on my [tumblr](https://hardleeharlee.tumblr.com/)


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